


Così fan pene

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-10
Updated: 2007-06-10
Packaged: 2018-10-26 15:43:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10789668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Draco gives Ron an unexpected gift.





	Così fan pene

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Written as a gift for stuckinsea, who recently and out of the blue sent me a copy of _Charmed Knits, Projects for Fans of Harry Potter._   


* * *

While Ron's stomach quickly settled from the unpleasant effects of Apparition, he closed his eyes, breathing in the stilled hush that permeated the woods near Draco's hermitage. The air smelled of impending rain; heavy clouds threatened to release their torrents any minute. Given the almost imperceptible prickling on his scalp that happened every time he visited, even though this was now a daily occurrence, he was certain that some residual Dark Magic still lingered in the weald that surrounded the Manor estate. It didn't bother him as much as it might, given how much he'd been forced to learn about the Death Eaters and the ways they could warp and brutalise magic during the War. If Draco could stand it, and he'd lived here for a few years now, on the outskirts of the home he'd grown up in, Ron could learn to be tolerant.

He held up his hand a few inches away from the door until it nearly touched the sheer but impenetrable wards set up around Draco's small house. After incanting a short phrase, he felt the barrier disappear, and with a smile tugging at his lips, he went inside.

"Draco?" he called, when he didn't see him in the kitchen or living room. "I'm ho— I'm here. Where are you?"

As he dropped his Quidditch bag to the floor with a loud thump, he glanced up to see Draco ambling down the corridor in a pair of drawstring slacks, toweling his damp hair.

"Right here," Draco said, the sensual quality to his voice causing heat to pool in Ron's groin. "You can call it home. I do." He tilted up his head to receive the kiss Ron gave him as Ron eased an arm around Draco's back. "You do practically live here, you know."

"Practically," Ron agreed, kissing Draco more deeply as the fragrant cedar smell of Draco's cologne wafted up to him. "I hope you don't mind."

"I'd let you know," Draco promised, nuzzling the side of Ron's neck before he stepped backward, draping the towel over his arm.

Ron's gaze was ensnared by the arousal beginning to tent the front of Draco's loose slacks and Draco let out an appreciative snort. "There's time for that later. Why don't I make us something to eat after I get dressed. Sound good?"

"Yes," Ron sighed gratefully. "I'm famished."

"I'll be right back and you can tell me about it," Draco said, padding silently back down the corridor to his room.

Ron stared after him, this time watching as the clingy fabric fluttered around Draco's ankles. He'd never really considered himself much of a sensualist; Ron fancied men, with hard angles and sandpapery jaws and muscled arses he could drive himself into. He'd never mooned over somebody before, especially not someone's long, indecently erotic toes, or the desperate, whining sounds that came out of Draco's mouth when Ron was fucking him with all of the tenderness he'd never known he had. Shaking his head, Ron adjusted the thickness in his denims and went to the kitchen to get a beer. Inspection of the refrigerator revealed a disturbing lack of ale of any kind, so instead he rummaged through the pantry and fixed himself a firewhiskey sour.

Draco returned from the bedroom, fully dressed this time, but still in bare feet. He put together a dish of what could only be described as comfort food, a one-skillet meal of lamb chops, tomatoes, broccoli and mushrooms. They ate and chatted, Ron lamenting the lack of ruthlessness in one of his Beaters, and Draco talking a little about a couple of up and coming wizarding companies he'd begun to do research on. Ron set the dishes to washing while Draco made some tea and then settled down in his favourite chair, pulling out a skein of emerald green wool. He cast a hovering charm on a slip of Muggle computer paper which Ron glanced at as he passed on his way to the sofa.

"I don't know how you make any sense of that," he said, gesturing at the 'k's and 'p's and other abbreviations that he'd never understood, even when he'd briefly tried to learn how to knit. Ron toed off his shoes, stretching out his legs as he sipped on another firewhiskey, getting out the newest issue of _Broom Enthusiast_ to peruse.

"It's really not that difficult," Draco insisted, his needles beginning their smooth clicking sound as he continued on with his project. "But I think we've already established it's not the best hobby for you to pick up."

"Too right." Ron smiled widely at him, thinking of the vest Draco had started knitted for him even before they'd properly gotten together. "What're you making? Pair of mittens?"

Whatever it was, it had the rounded shape of a mitten, but if so, the thumb part was way out of proportion. Draco hadn't been working on it for very long, but it seemed to make him happy. Ron was at a loss as he looked at it.

"A surprise."

A devious look flickered in Draco's eyes before he went back to his knitting. Ron shrugged, wriggling his toes and easing back against the soft arm of the couch. The room seemed a bit chilly after a time, despite the cosy familiarity of a quiet evening together. Draco made a satisfied sound, holding up the finished oddly shaped knitting with a smirk before folding it in half and putting it into his satchel. Just as Ron was about to get up and find his wand in the side pocket of his Quidditch duffel, Draco asked, "Are you cold?"

"Yeah."

"Me too. I'll light the fire."

"Thanks."

A quick _Incendio_ and flames burned merrily in the grate. Draco disappeared into the kitchen and came back out with a glass of wine. He took a couple of sips as Ron watched, distracted first by Draco's throat as he swallowed and then by the play of light on Draco's hair. With the predatory grace of a lynx, Draco put his glass down on a coffee table and walked right up to the edge of the couch. He reached down, his fingers clamping elegantly on the magazine.

"May I?" he asked, tilting his head.

Ron could only nod as it was lifted out of his hand and gently tossed onto Draco's vacated chair. He slowly sank onto Ron's lap, straddling him on the couch and giving him a look that caused Ron's pulse to race. Ron slid his arms around Draco's waist as Draco leaned in, licking his lips before pressing them, still barely open, against Ron's waiting mouth. Ron moaned as Draco sucked on his tongue before ravaging the heat of his mouth. Draco's tongue plunged against Ron's, the flavours of wine and tea commingling with the savoury refined taste that Ron associated with his lover.

They'd been together for a few months, but kissing Draco, especially when Draco was as intense and passionate as he was right now, caused an unruly wildfire of desire and need to rush through Ron. He clenched his arse, angling his pelvis so his trapped erection could rub against Draco's hardening length. Draco rutted against Ron, easing his head to the side to sow a path of open-mouthed kisses over to Ron's ear. Hot breath and a sinful voice murmured against Ron's sensitive skin and he groaned at how bloody erotic it was. They didn't shag every day or anything, but it their couplings were still memorable — and frequent — and had an aura of equality he'd not experienced before with the other blokes he'd been involved with. Draco was altogether a different creature, all lithe strength and aristocratic obscenity and a host of other unlikely juxtapositions. When Draco pulled Ron's long-sleeved t-shirt off of his head and began laving at Ron's hardened nipples, any remaining coherent thought fled. Hungry want spooled down to his caged cock. He pulled Draco up to him, kissing him soundly, mouth wide open and tongue sliding relentlessly next to Draco's until he broke away.

Draco's eyes were dilated, his nostrils flaring; he breathed heavily through his mouth. "Floor," he demanded, his voice ragged.

"No clothes," Ron added, kneading Draco's arse as he flexed backward, the line of his torso a taut bowstring.

Ron couldn't help but lean forward, nipping at Draco's chest above his thin t-shirt and garnering a reedy frustrated noise in response. In a fluid motion Draco straightened up, planting his hands on Ron's shoulders before standing up and moving away from the couch. He retrieved his wand and _Accio_ 'ed a tube of lubricant from their bedroom, sliding his silky leggings down his thighs into a puddle on the floor. As he stepped out of them and tugged off his own shirt, Ron got busy undoing his denims and shoving both them and his y-fronts down with an urgency that surprised him. Something about Draco tonight just set him aflame. Ron would never hurt his lover, and doubted that they'd ever get into anything rough, but he didn't want to dally with too much more foreplay. From the feral, scalding look in Draco's eyes, he didn't either.

"Where do you want me?" Ron asked. Since Draco had been the one to start this, Ron suspected he might have a preferred position to be in.

"Deep and hard," Draco purred.

Ron let out a strangled moaning sound, dropping a hand to his newly freed cock to fist it, never letting his gaze move from Draco's lusty expression.

"On your back," Draco went on, watching as Ron got a couple of pillows off of the sofa and tossed them to the rug in front of the fire.

"Cushioning charm?" Ron asked and Draco nodded, casting it before Ron squatted down and stretched out on his back. He nudged one of the pillows under his head, cradling one hand at the base of his skull while letting the other hand resume his self-ministrations of his throbbing cock. His eyebrows furrowed when Draco stuck his hand into his satchel and pulled out the strange piece of green knitting, an uncommon mix of amusement and lewdness in his expression.

Draco dimmed the lights, took a deep swallow of wine and walked the few steps over to Ron. He knelt gracefully to the floor, his mouth rising in a one-sided irrepressible smirk.

"What is that?" Ron asked a bit breathlessly, rolling his soft sacs in his fingers.

"Penis cosy."

"Come again?!" Ron asked, utterly baffled.

"I haven't even come once. Yet," Draco said with a huffed laugh.

"If you'd quit mucking about and let me be hard and deep in you, like you asked, that wouldn't be an issue," Ron rumbled, sitting up and reaching out for Draco's arm.

"Not so fast! I want to see if it fits."

Flabbergasted, Ron watched as Draco undid the cording at the top, comprehension at last dawning about the strange shape as he slid the narrower of the two tubes over his shaft. Ron couldn't help it, but he burst out laughing. Thankfully Draco laughed a bit as well, though he continued to try and fit the mitten-like contraption until he sat back on his heels in defeat.

"Well, I bet it'll work when you're not hard."

Ron looked askance at him, at the ridged terrain of his torso, his long straight hair pulled back, his own prick jutting up from its dark blond thatch of curls. Urgency swirled and coiled in Ron's cock, causing it to twitch. "With you this close, naked, and looking like somebody who wants to be thoroughly fucked, it won't be any time soon."

"Fuck, Ron," Draco said throatily, easing the penis cosy off of his prick and aiming it to land on top of the copy of _Broom Enthusiast_.

"Yes, let's," Ron quipped.

"You could wear it under your wetsuit out surfing, especially when it gets cold," Draco mused before Ron groaned, pulling Draco on top of him until they were a writhing, thrusting jumble of limbs.

Draco extricated himself, sitting back on his heels, slicking two of his fingers with their pine-scented lube and pressing them into his body with a deep sigh. Ron watched, mesmerised, one hand rubbing Draco's thigh and the other circling the base of his cock. This was a favourite position of Draco's, and one that Ron had grown fond of himself. After only a few moments of preparation, Draco positioned himself over Ron's cock and eased himself down until Ron was fully inside him.

Ron didn't have words for how good, how _hottightsqueeze_ bloody brilliant it felt, pushing so deeply into Draco's body like this. Draco took a shuddering breath before dropping down to his hands, stealing a heady kiss from Ron before setting his own pace. He rode Ron's shaft, Ron clenching his arse and thrusting up in counter rhythm to Draco's pushing back. The smacking sounds of skin on skin, panted adulations and invectives and broken whimpers filled the room. Draco sat up, bowing back against Ron's thighs, turning his face toward the ceiling and tugging up and down on his cock. Ron was pretty close himself, planting his hands above Draco's knees and pumping his hips to get as much delicious friction as he could.

When Draco's moans raised in pitch, Ron drove into the hot channel, pressed up against him as Draco suddenly stilled. The distinctive jagged cries as Draco's orgasm spilled out of him were almost enough to pull Ron over the edge. Chest heaving, Draco reached a hand down to grasp behind Ron's thigh, the other milking the last of his release. He lowered his head, giving Ron a sated, reverent look.

"You?" he said, his voice husky.

Ron shook his head.

"No, I know that." With the back of his hand, Draco delicately wiped at the tear of sweat at his temple. "How'd you like to be for yours?"

"Deep and hard," Ron said gruffly, the tension winding and strained in his bollocks. At Draco's arched eyebrow, Ron made a dismissive noise. "Didn't really mean that. D'you mind being on your side?"

"Not at all."

Keeping their bodies joined, with a bit of awkward jostling Ron manoeuvered Draco onto his side. Draco lifted up one leg so Ron could push into him, his face so unreserved and almost awed that it only took a few thrusts before Ron came, letting out a keening shout as though he was in pain. Eyes clenched shut he rode out his release, bucking as the warm fluid coursed out of him. After the blood stopped roaring in his ears, Ron slowly opened his eyes. Draco's expression was smug satisfaction, and in it Ron saw a sliver of his former nemesis from their school years, continuing on into the brutal months of the War. Now, however, as he let his softening cock slide out of Draco's body and he sagged down onto him, Ron realised it didn't bother him— much. He was still himself, with an easily provoked temper and jealous streak; Draco would always be quick with a snide comment and a superior air, at least out in public. Here, in Draco's hermitage or even Ron's far less remarkable flat, they could let down their guard, mapping new terrain of cautious trust while exploring their sexual desires and cravings.

"Good?" Draco asked quietly, running his hands down Ron's back.

"Mmmm-hmmmm," Ron replied, listening to the steady thumping of Draco's heart. He felt the brush of supple leather against his back, the armband Draco never took off, given by his Healer. Inexplicably, Ron was struck by the idea of seeing something else on him that would represent another kind of permanence, a twisting of bronze and silver, perhaps, to represent their very different personalities. Fire and cool water, reckless and restrained… then again…

Ron thought of the penis cosy, and decided that he'd probably only just begun to discover just how wide of a scheming streak Draco had. No doubt he and George would get on quite well, though having them actually meet up was a thought for another day. Ron hadn't been secretive to his family about his relationship with Draco, but they'd not been the most understanding, either.

"So you like it?" Draco's voice was playful, albeit still a bit raspy from their lovemaking.

"Oh yeah," Ron said, planting a dry kiss against the faint downy chest hair. "I'll be the envy of all the blokes out on Llangennith. Knitting cock warmers will be your new enterprise."

Draco chuckled. "I can see it now: _Così fan pene_. Something for all penises."

"You're barking mad, Draco."

"I know." He kissed Ron on the head as Ron smiled to himself. Yes, this relationship was going to be quite full of surprises.

* * * * *

Lest you think I'm making up the idea of knitted penis cozies, [here's](http://www.thrihyrne.net/pictures/peniscozyweb2.jpg) a link to one!


End file.
